A Lack of Criminal Conversation
by anabundanceofstars
Summary: Marriage Law fic. "Well, Granger, frankly I think one of us should know what they're doing." Dramione
1. Chapter 1

"They can't bloody do this, not after we fought a bloody war!"

"Ron, you're going to have a stroke. Please sit-"

"I bloody well will not sit down Ginny! This is a goddamn outrage!"

Hermione held the Daily Prophet in her hands and stared dazedly at Ron pacing the living room of Grimmauld Place. The Golden Trio had been aware that rumors of a proposed 'Marriage Law' were circulating the Ministry, but they had not been prepared for this.

 _Wizengamot Passes Mandatory Marriage Law, Population in Crisis!_

The headline was dramatic, accompanied by a picture of several prominent Wizengamot members looking dire. The following article did little to dispel the bleak picture the legislators painted for the necessary passing of the law. Magical Britain, rocked by two wars and a declining birth rate, was set to encompass only one hundred citizens in a century's time, the majority being passed child bearing age.

"They can't expect us to just take this lying down!" said Ron. "We don't have any say in this at all."

"We won't be held in suspense," Harry said from where he was standing at the window, staring out into the back garden. "The matches are being passed out tomorrow. There's a mandatory meeting at the Ministry."

Hermione turned to look at Harry, expecting to see anger, but only finding resignation. The war had taken a toll on them all, but five years later Harry hadn't fully recovered. He and Ginny's burgeoning relationship had gone a long way to bring him back from the edge, but Harry still had terrible nightmares that would echo about the house where the four had been living since the battle.

She hoped that these ministry idiots wouldn't split up the couple, Harry deserved happiness more than anyone. Ron, however, was a little less optimistic.

"Harry! This is serious! What if they try and marry the girls off to disgusting Death Eaters, or-"

"Ron," Ginny appeared to be almost in tears with this plea, "just shut up." She got up from the sofa where she had been sitting to join Harry at the window, slipping her hand into his. Harry's shoulders relaxed and he leaned his head against hers. Hermione folded up the paper and crossed the room to throw it into the fireplace.

"We will just have to see tomorrow," she said, as the headline went up in flames.

Early the next day, the four Gryffindors crowded into the Atrium at the ministry with seemingly every other person in Magical Britain under the age of fifty. They had largely been out of public life since the war ended, so several people turned to stare as they made their way toward a long table.

"Name?" enquired the harassed ministry employee checking people in, not even looking up.

"Harry Potter."

The officials head whipped up so fast, it was a wonder he didn't strain something.

"And as you can see," Harry continued, "this is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."

"Of course Mr. Potter! We will alert your match counselor that you have arrived."

Hermione turned to Harry and mouthed 'match counselor?' but he shook his head and moved toward some temporary benches that had been set up to accommodate the waiting crowd. Among those already seated, Hermione could see Susan Bones and Luna Lovegood chatting in a group with Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas.

She waved to Luna as they passed, having kept in close contact after school while Hermione was researching her history of the rise and fall of fae in the Highlands. While many of her friends had chosen to go into public service, Harry and Ron had been first in line for the Aurors, Hermione had opted to rejoin her scholarly pursuits from school. She still held that all creatures deserved equal treatment under the law, but she thought that a better educated public was the way to achieve that.

And now as she looked around this institutional lobby, she didn't regret her decision to put off a political life. So much for a ministry who put the will of the people first.

"Merlin, as if this day couldn't get any worse," Ron groaned, as a familiar blond head appeared in the crowd.

Malfoy was flanked by Goyle and Zabini as they made their way up to the registration table. After five years the changes in Malfoy were subtly apparent. During the days after the final battle, and later the Death Eater trials, his pointy features had become more pronounced with stress. Now, dressed in black with a fashionably cut cloak, Malfoy had regained some of his dignity and cut an imposing figure in the crowd.

"Well, at least we know that everyone is subject to this farce," Ginny said, rolling her eyes as Malfoy swept towards the edge of the room with his entourage.

As the time approached that the matches were set to be read, the mood of the room deteriorated. Ron got up and began to pace. Ginny had a death grip on Harry's hand and just stared straight ahead. The sound level in the Atrium decreased until it was oppressively silent.

Finally, the clock struck nine and a bell tolled out the hour, but it could have been an explosion for all the calm it brought to the room. On a small dais in front of the large fountain a man stepped forward to address the waiting crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "we of the ministry welcome you on this auspicious day. No doubt, you have read about the grave challenges our country faces without the forethought of the Wizengamot. Together, we can stave off extinction and grow our society so that we may truly begin to thrive."

Hermione snorted in response to this politically correct speech and Ginny suppressed a small bubble of hysterical laughter. It didn't get any better than some old booby getting up and giving some vague statement about how this all was for the 'good of your country'. Another person was approaching the front of the dais now, with a long roll of parchment in hand. Ron physically gulped as this ministry official thanked the first and stepped to the front.

"Thank you all for being here today. These matches have been determined by the most sophisticated magic we possess and are therefore final."

Ripples of unease flooded the crowd at this statement.

"We have ensured that each match will produce a sufficient number of children with a low chance of complication, so that we may begin to enrich our society again. If the match is so unpalatable that either party choose not to accept, or an alternate match cannot be established, the penalty will be banishment from the magical community and the snapping of the individuals wand. We encourage you to view these match appointments as the beginning of a new life with your most perfect spouse."

Angry mutterings were spreading throughout the crowd at this point and the official had to raise his hands for silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please. We will now call your names and you will go through to your private appointments where your match will be revealed. Your ministry counselor will explain the details of what the match entails and you will exchange a ring as a promise to each other."

Ron did begin to panic at this statement. "Harry were we supposed to bring rings?" he asked, wildly looking around to see if other people were having the same reaction.

Harry exchanged a conspirative look with Ginny before shrugging at Ron.

"Dunno mate, I think we will find out," he said, still holding Ginny's hand.

The official unrolled the scroll with a flourish and held his hands for quiet again. "And now, without further ado, we will begin. Hannah Abbott!"

A willowy blonde girl from their year arose from her seat and was shown through a door to the left of the dais.

"Terry Boot!"

Hermione sighed and turned to her bag for the book she had brought. This was going to take hours if each person was to be called individually. Ron resumed his pacing and Harry began twirling his wand in his empty hand.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione gave a start and snapped her book closed. "Golly, that was fast. Did they call the whole alphabet before G?" she asked as she rose and tucked her book away.

Harry shook his head, "They're skipping around. Malfoy and about half our year have already been called."

She wrapped both Harry and Ron in tight hugs and then went through the same door Hannah Abbott had passed through. The corridor beyond was littered with doors that seemed to stretch on and on. Each had a small plaque and Hermione laughed when she realized they were all blank. 'Must be personalized with your name when you come to the right door', she thought and started walking.

After passing some twenty odd doors, she finally saw a change in the plaque of the 21st. 'H. Granger' was written in large, curly letters and Hermione drew herself up in front of it. 'Here goes', she thought, pushing through the door into the room beyond.

Inside, the room was an institutional kind of warm, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. A small fire burned in the grate, but no light suffused into the room. A pair of matching olive green arm chairs flanked a wooden desk where the person Hermione assumed was her match counselor organized papers. The other occupant stood when she entered and the shock of recognition was almost enough to knock Hermione back.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger," he grimaced, "it seems we are a perfect match."

"Ah Miss Granger," exclaimed the counselor, "I was beginning to worry you had lost your way. Please sit, we have much to discuss. I was just beginning to go over details with Mr. Malfoy here."

"I'm afraid there has been some mistake," Hermione said, as she moved toward the unoccupied arm chair.

"No, no Ms. Granger. The ministry is quite excited about the results predicted for your match with Mr. Malfoy here." She smiled in Malfoy's direction and he visibly recoiled. "But how rude of me, I am Mrs. Sheldon and I will be presiding over your first vows today."

"First vows?" Hermione asked helplessly.

"Granger, don't be ignorant," Malfoy quipped, "we are here to plight our troths before we leave today."

As her expression remained quizzical, Malfoy sighed. "Wizarding marriages are built on three vows, Granger. The first we make to each other: our intention to marry. The second we make in front of witnesses: the ceremony. And the third we make with no observers."

Hermione's panicked expression was enough to tell Malfoy that she gathered the meaning he was alluding to. This was all becoming to real, she hadn't even thought about the physical aspect of this farce.

"Mrs. Sheldon, was it?" Hermione began, looking away from Malfoy. "What about an alternative match? I'm sure the ministry has made a mistake of some kind here."

"Oh, no Miss Granger. We have thoroughly vetted each match and we took many factors into consideration."

Malfoy laughed at this. "You seem to have missed a huge factor here, Mrs. Sheldon," he said acidly.

She looked between the two of them, shaking her head. "I assure you, Mr. Malfoy that-"

"No Mrs. Sheldon," Malfoy said, cutting her off. "What you seem to have missed, in all the ministry's infinite wisdom, is a simple fact that could be deduced from our past relationship."

"And what is that, Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione couldn't take it anymore and she stood up abruptly, her chair skidding back across the floor. "We hate each other! One look at our school years would tell you that," she seethed, hair starting to spark with small purple flares.

"Steady on, Granger. I wouldn't go that far," Malfoy protested.

Hermione turned an accusing glare on him. "Oh, don't try to downplay it Malfoy. This marriage is laughable in its ridiculousness. We fought on different sides of a war."

"Granger, not all of us can afford to piss of the ministry on a whim. Sit down, you're scaring the woman," he responded, turning back toward Mrs. Sheldon. "Now, tell us our options here, in exact terms. I don't want Granger here fussing because you withheld vital information."

Mrs. Sheldon nodded and pulled several sheets of parchment from her stack. "First, this is the match for each of you that produce the most magical children," she said. "We do acknowledge that there might be alternatives present to either of you, however these changes must be ratified by both parties-"

"Then I would like to propose an alternate match," Hermione interrupted. "Charlie Weasley."

Malfoy looked scandalized and began shaking his head. "No, not a Weasley."

Mrs. Sheldon shook her head. "Unfortunately, Ms. Granger, we cannot compel Mr. Weasley to agree to the match as he has a Romanian and not British citizenship," she said.

"But Charlie would agree to help me, I know it," Hermione said. "And he would probably agree to become a british citizen again, family ties are very important to him."

The official began to nod and pulled out a piece of parchment and quill. "Well, it would have to be approved by the proper committee-"

"I thought you said that both parties had to approve the change," Malfoy asked, cutting her off.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, they do. It is essential to the ministry that both parties are comfortable with the match as it stands."

"Then I am happy with match as it stands," said Malfoy.

"Malfoy! Don't be petty, this cannot go on," Hermione shouted, standing again. "This alternative will give us both what we want in the long run, you can kowtow to the ministry with some other witch and I might even be happy with my future family!"

Malfoy stood as well, turning to face Hermione. "If I'm going to be saddled with a wife chosen by the ministry, I'm going to bloody well have the best one available," he said, raising his voice.

Hermione's hair began to emit the same purple sparks again. "Oh, the best am I? No talk of my dirty blood now. Well, since you seem to value all things pure, what do you say to the fact that your future wife isn't a virgin?" she bristled.

"Well, Granger, frankly I think one of us should know what they're doing," he retorted, cheeks blushing a becoming shade of pink.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. "Malfoy you cannot be serious-" she started.

"Granger, I assure you I am deathly serious about this match," he said icily, regaining his composure.

Hermione looked helplessly at the counselor who was watching them with rapt fascination. "Mrs. Sheldon surely there's something we can do here."

"Unfortunately Miss Granger, if either party is unamenable to changing the match, there is very little the ministry can do," the counselor replied.

Malfoy nodded. "Since we're not changing the match, will you get on with the details," he said.

Hermione sat down in a daze as the counselor began to read what would be expected of them going forward. They were to make the first binding vow of their marriage today, like Malfoy said as their declaration to marry. Following that, they would have a short two month courtship in which to plan their wedding and get accustomed to each other.

"How generous," Hermione snarled when the counselor read that part.

Exactly two months to the day from this meeting, they were to bind themselves in a marriage ceremony.

"And it will be a binding ceremony, like magical marriages have been for centuries," she informed them. "None of these newfangled civil ceremonies where divorce is a possibility. Marriage is for life, you know."

A helpless tear slid down Hermione's cheek. She raised a hand to swat it away, but Malfoy was already offering her his handkerchief. Shocked, she accepted the gesture and then stuffed the small square into the pocket of her jumper. Malfoy continued listening to the counselor as if nothing had happened.

"And before you leave today, we will complete the first vow and it will be sealed with the exchange of a ring," she said, turning to look at Malfoy. "Will you be needing a ministry provided ring?"

"That will not be necessary," Malfoy said, reaching into his pocket to produce a small velvet box.

"Marvelous," said Mrs. Sheldon. "If you would both stand and face each other."

Hermione stood numbly and turned towards Malfoy. He reached out and took her hands from her sides so that they stood handfast before the official.

"Now, if you would both repeat after me. Will you honor and respect one another,

and seek to never break that honor?"

"We will," they both said, and a thread of purple magic enveloped their hands.

"Will you share each other's pain and seek to ease it?"

"We will." This time a thread of orange light joined the purple around their hands.

"Will you share the burdens of each so that your magic may grow in this union?"

"We will." A green thread shot out to envelope their hands and the three threads glowed briefly before disappearing into their skin.

"And so the three promises have been made and your first vow is complete. Please cement the vow with the ring, Mr. Malfoy," said Mrs. Sheldon, smiling.

Malfoy took the box from his pocket again and slid a ring onto Hermione's left hand. "Since my mother is still living, the Malfoy family ring will remain with her. I thought you would want something different anyway," he said.

Hermione just nodded and glanced down at her hand. The ring was truly beautiful, a large hexagonal diamond flanked with smaller stones. Her mind was having trouble processing the events of the last thirty minutes. The counselor was prattling on about wedding timelines, but all Hermione could hear was a dull rushing in her ears.

"Malfoy," she started, swaying slightly. "I think I'm-"

"Granger, stay with me here," said Malfoy, stepping forward and helping her sit down again. "I think my fianceé and I would like some time alone, Mrs. Sheldon. You have my permission to withdraw."

The counselor protested, but eventually gathered up her materials and gave them the room. Malfoy poured out some water from a crystal jug sitting on the table and pressed it into Hermione's hand.

"Drink up, Granger," he said. "I can't have you passing out on me again."

"I hardly passed out," Hermione complained, sipping the water nonetheless. "I just felt a bit faint."

"Good to see I can make my fiancee weak at the knees," Malfoy said, smirking.

That statement made Hermione bristle. "Yes, well I wouldn't be your fiancee if it were up to me," she said. "I still don't know why you insisted on going through with this, and don't give me that 'best Muggleborn' crap again."

Malfoy sat forward in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Granger, there are some things that I can't tell you," he said. "However, I do promise, from here on, that I will never lie outright."

"That's fair. I'm assuming lies of admission will be something else entirely," she replied.

Malfoy stared back with a carefully blank face and Hermione sighed. "Fine, can you at least tell me why you accepted this match so readily?"

"The past five years have not been kind to my family, Granger," said Malfoy. "The trials and my father's subsequent prison sentence haven't exactly burnished the family name."

"Well, he deserved it," said Hermione.

"I am not disputing that," Malfoy replied, face still blank. "However, it has raised significant challenges in our business operations and adding a war heroine into the mix will go a long way in improving relationships, both with clients and the ministry."

"So this is to be a marriage of convenience?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "It its way, this marriage will be advantageous to both of us. I get to keep the ministry off my back and you will see that the Malfoy name opens many doors that were previously closed to you."

"I thought you said your family name wasn't what it used to be," Hermione shot back.

"Don't think for a second that the world isn't still full of prejudice, Granger," Malfoy replied, evenly. "The scholarly world especially values family ties."

"Fine. What else can you tell me?"

"That is all I am willing to say at this time," he said, standing and offering her a hand. "Has your light-headedness passed or do we need to take you to St. Mungo's?"

Hermione waved his hand away. "I'm perfectly fine," she said crossly. "I certainly don't need help standing up."

Malfoy nodded and retreated a respectful distance while she gathered her things. They had each been given a scroll of parchment detailing the expectations of the match.

"What do you want to do about this," she asked, waving the scroll at him. "We are supposed to use the next two months to 'get acquainted.'"

"Perhaps we could meet once a week to finalize the wedding plans," Malfoy said as they both moved towards the door. "We can use that time to learn more about the people we are now. I assume you would not accept a normal courting relationship."

"What does that mean," Hermione asked, stopping short.

"In arranged marriages, there is typically a courting period before the wedding. I believe the muggles refer to this as 'dating', but the wizarding version is more formal," he said, a small smirk coming to his lips.

Hermione's face flushed. "I think the formal meetings once a week will suffice, Malfoy. No need to make this even more awkward than it already is," she replied.

"Very well."

 _AN: This is my very first attempt at a Dramione fic after reading these for 10+ years. I've been kicking around this plot idea for a little while and it is loosely based on the book Outlander. In my mind, this version of wizarding society is very formal, with set courting rituals like the Victorians, and muggle society is more permissive. So we have Virgin!Draco and a slightly more experienced Hermione which changes the dynamic of their relationship slightly. Let me know what you think, I'm hoping to update about once a week and if you are a beta I would love some feedback. ~MP_


	2. Chapter 2

"Harry? Ron?" Hermione called, as she stepped out of the fire in Grimmauld Place.

"Living room!"

She waved her wand to siphon off the dust from Floo travel, then pushed open the pocket doors.

"Well?" Ron asked from his place sprawled on the area run. Harry and Ginny likewise turned towards her with anxious faces.

"It was fine," Hermione said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from the other two.

"Who was your match?" Harry was looking at her intently from his seat.

"Um, well it was...Malfoy," Hermione replied, slightly mumbling.

"WHAT?!"

"Guys, it's really not-"

"First me and Parkinson and now this? What are those bloody idiots thinking," moaned Ron. "I mean are they trying to send us to early graves?"

Hermione made a face at the name. "Your match is Pansy?"

"Yes," he slurred. "Thanks why I'm slightly drunk and laying on the floor at two thirty in the afternoon."

The other three laughed for the first time in what seemed like years. "Oh, Ron," Hermione said, getting up to pour a glass of Firewhiskey herself. "And here I thought it was just a normal Tuesday."

"I resent that!"

Harry ignored Ron's continued grumbling and joined Hermione at the small bar they had set up. "How was it really," he asked, as she handed him a glass.

"Awful," she replied. "No...it was very strange. I can't really describe it."

"Was he horrible to you?"

"No...he was very polite actually. At this point, it just seems surreal," Hermione mused, sipping her drink. "How did you and Ginny make out?"

Harry smiled. "We're a match. So at least that's two out of us four. But you and Ron...I don't know how it is all going to work out."

"I tried to propose an alternate match," she said. "But Malfoy wouldn't hear of it, and since both parties have to approve, the official wouldn't put it to the committee."

"So that's why you're appointment took so much longer than ours, we were starting to get worried," he said.

"Yes," she grimaced, taking another sip. "He wasn't mean necessarily. But he refused. It was actually incredibly civil, well, except for the part where we started screaming at each other-"

"Rowing already?" Ron voiced from the rug. "You should have heard Parkinson in our meeting. Could have shattered all the windows in the Great Hall with her shrieks."

"Ron, how many glasses have you had now?" Ginny asked from the couch.

"Oh, lay off Gin. I'm engaged to a heartless harpy. This will probably be the happiest I'll be for a long time," he groaned, pulling a pillow off the couch to cover his face.

"I think we all deserve a drink today," Harry said, bringing a glass over to Ginny. "Let's raise a glass to those pricks at the ministry. It wasn't enough that we had to fight a war for them, but now they've mortgaged the happiness of our entire generation."

"Hip hip, hooray!" sang Ron from the floor as the rest drained their drinks.

* * *

The next day Hermione was in the library perusing research for her next book. They had stayed up late into the night drinking and reminiscing on their school days. As a result, the words were swimming on the page in front of her and she pushed them away with a frustrated sigh. What was the point of researching obscure magical creatures in China? She didn't see Malfoy being okay with his wife going off on solo trips for weeks on end.

"Pick your battles, Hermione," she muttered to herself and she stowed the scrolls away. Perhaps if she gave some ground on the wedding she could get him to agree to the research trip.

A tapping noise at the window interrupted her musings and she opened it to admit the large bird outside.

"Look at you," she marveled as she untied the scroll from the great grey owl's feet. "Not the run of the mill mail carrier, are you?"

The owl just glared balefully back at her with its big, yellow eyes. Hermione turned her attention to the scroll, which was closed with a crest stamped into green ink.

"Trust Malfoy to have an owl just as snooty as he is," she said, breaking the seal.

 _Granger,_

 _As mentioned in our match appointment, I would like to set a time to discuss wedding details. It is if the utmost importance that we begin this process soon, can you meet at two o'clock tomorrow at the Willow & Wand? Matutina will await your answer._

 _-DM_

"Damn," she sighed. Hermione had been banking on a few days to process their last meeting at the ministry before engaging in another battle of wills with Malfoy. The last encounter had left her reeling, particularly the information Malfoy had slipped regarding his sexual experience.

'Not likely' she thought to herself. And really, Malfoy a virgin? That couldn't possibly be what he was saying. What kind of red blooded, twenty three year old wizard wasn't actively trying to sleep with everything that moved? In fact, that was what had ultimately lead to the demise of her and Ron's relationship after the war.

The euphoria after the final battle had gone a long way in aiding the relationship.

She and Ron had fallen together in a heady whirlwind those months after the war. But the bloom had gone off the rose quickly and then they were often at each other's throats. Finally, after a year, Hermione had decided it was enough. They both wanted extremely different things and Ron agreed he wasn't ready to settle down.

In the four years after Ron, there had been a few men in her life and a couple of flings while on research trips. Hermione was a product of the modern Muggle era, both her parents being dentists, and she hadn't put much stock into remaining a virgin for her wedding day. She had thought dropping the bomb about her lack of virginity could persuade Malfoy to agree to an alternate match.

Apparently not.

"Are you going to wait here all day," she teased the owl. Matutina glared back. "Okay, okay," she said, grabbing some parchment. "I'm not trying to provoke your wrath."

 _Malfoy,_

 _Tomorrow will be fine._

 _-HG_

"There you go, you big bully," she said, tying the scroll to the owl's leg.

* * *

Hermione rose early to ready herself for her meeting with Malfoy. She had spent more time going over the documents from the ministry and the results were unsettling. A child would be required from the union in three years. The shock of the situation had made the details seem trivial, what could possible be worse than having to marry Malfoy? But this caveat was truly disconcerting.

A book in the Black library had also given her some incite into the three vows Malfoy had so condescendingly educated her on during their match appointment. This binding marriage had gone out of fashion about twenty years ago, but it had been a staple before that. The magical bond it created could not be dissolved through divorce, even if the parties chose to live separately.

To Hermione, these marriage rituals seemed straight out of the Muggle Victorian Age. Malfoy's behavior had also been very courtly and mannered, given their contentious past. If only there was a book somewhere about Pureblood etiquette she could read, but an exhaustive search of the library had yielded only the marriage vows tomb.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked in the kitchen as Hermione breezed in to make some tea.

"Meeting Malfoy for a late lunch," she replied.

"Will wonders never cease," he laughed mockingly.

"Not all of us can be as lucky in our fiancee as you are with Ginny," Hermione sighed. "Have you read the materials the ministry gave out?"

"I skimmed it," he said.

"A child in three years?" Hermione asked, sipping her tea. "Malfoy and I are going to have to do a lot more than just meet for lunch."

Harry grimaced. "I don't want to hear about the gory details with the ferret, Hermione," he groaned. "But yes, I did see that."

"The ministry is reaching its long fingers right into our bedrooms," Ginny said, walking into the kitchen. "They're trying to saddle us with kids as quickly as possible so we're too tired to protest this bullshit."

"I guess we should feel lucky that we have three years. And on that note, I'm off," Hermione said, disapparating with a crack.

She arrived to the restaurant a few minutes before two. It was located in an area of Diagon Alley that she didn't regularly frequent, characterized by higher end wizarding shops. In an effort to remain inconspicuous during the past years, she had avoided going out in public, especially places with crowds.

They all had leftover ticks from the war. For Harry it was nightmares, but Hermione's stemmed more from being on the run for almost a year and being attacked at every angle during the final battle. Crowds made her nervous, as they gave potential enemies cover.

Keeping a wary eye on her surroundings, Hermione entered the building and gave her name to the maître d. She was shown to a table at the back of the restaurant which was surrounded by ferns, giving the illusion of privacy. Malfoy stood as she approached.

"Thank you, Jean Paul," he said to the waiter. "We will start with the Grand Cru white."

"Very good, Monsieur Malfoy," the waiter replied and disappeared, leaving them alone.

"And thank you for coming, Granger," Malfoy said, crossing to pull out the other chair for her. "Please sit, we have much to discuss."

"Do we really need alcohol for this conversation?" she asked, sitting in the proffered seat.

"I feel a bit of social lubricant wouldn't go amiss here," he said, a slight smirk drawing the corners of his mouth up into an almost smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "This is some pureblood etiquette thing, right Malfoy? You can't possibly believe that I would fall for this after you treated me like dirt on the bottom of your shoe for years," she sneered.

He sat back in his chair and regarded her with that carefully blank expression she had come to recognize as the 'Malfoy Mask'. "How much do you know about traditional courting in the wizarding world, Granger?" he asked evenly.

"Not a lot," she said begrudgingly. "There's a shocking dearth of information on the subject. I was able to find some on the Three Vows, but nothing on the lead up to the ceremony."

"Right. Well as you might have guessed, the upper echelon of pureblood society operates on a set of etiquette rules," he said. "Since we are now engaged, the rules dictate how society, and myself by extension, should treat you."

He poured her a glass of wine from the bottle that appeared on the table.

"So, the whole manners thing is all an act?" Hermione asked, lifting the glass to her lips.

"No," he replied. "You are now my fiancée and are entitled to receive a certain level of courtesy befitting that station."

"But I've seen purebloods be horrible to each other," Hermione protested.

"Yes, well isn't all fair in love and war?" He quipped.

"I don't think I would characterize their behavior as fair," she said, frowning. "People did inexcusable things in the war."

Malfoy grimaced and nodded to her point. "No, that was a regrettable comparison on my part. My apologies."

"So, because we're engaged, I'm somehow worthy of better treatment than I was when I walked into the ministry as plain old Hermione Granger two days ago?" She asked, shifting the subject away from the war.

"I'm hardly going to throw a tantrum over our match Granger," he said, sighing. "It would be futile as the ministry has already said the punishment for shirking one's appointed spouse is banishment," Malfoy sneered. "Besides, I've already explained to you to advantages of this match to my family."

"And you said there were things you wouldn't tell me! Are you more at liberty now to say what those things are?" She asked, raising her voice slightly.

At that moment the waiter interrupted them. "Are madame and monsieur ready to order?"

Hermione sat back in her chair while Malfoy ordered, slightly embarrassed at the scene she was making. Really, he was being perfectly civil about this whole thing when it could have been much more unpleasant. There was just something that wasn't sitting right with his act, but she couldn't put her finger on a specific that was tripping the alarms in her head.

After they both ordered, an uncomfortable silence descended on the table until he finally sighed and broke it.

"I didn't bring you here to fight, Granger. I know that you find this whole process terribly devoid of real feeling, but I was raised to expect an arranged marriage and I am just treating you the same way I was raised to treat any witch I was engaged to," he said.

She nodded. "It seems one of us has put their prejudices behind them."

"Let's move on to a more neutral topic. Have you given any thought to who you would like at the wedding ceremony?" Malfoy said, pouring them each more wine.

"I would like to keep it to family and close friends if we can," Hermione said. "The thought of a big society wedding isn't something I ever imagined for myself."

"At least on this topic we agree completely," said Malfoy, smiling lightly. "I will have to reign Mother in from what she was expecting, but I don't think it will be a problem. What do you say, fifty guests?"

Hermione grimaced. "I was hoping for smaller than that. But I supposed fifty or more will be unavoidable with our combined guest lists," she replied.

"Good, so that's settled. Have you given any thought to the venue?"

"Maybe something outdoors? I've always thought outdoor weddings were beautiful," Hermione said.

"My mother will appreciate the nod to tradition if we have the ceremony outside, sympathetic magic and all," he said.

They spent the rest of the meal making decisions on the reception and pre-wedding details. A simple announcement would be placed in the Prophet, but the wedding would remain open to close friends and family only. The reception would be held on the grounds of the Manor, much to Hermione's chagrin, but it was one of the only places they could ensure privacy. She would have final say over her dress and the guest list.

At the end of the meal, Malfoy rose to escort her to the apparition point. He didn't miss the way she looked over her shoulders furtively at passing groups, but politely did not comment. His parting words were in reference to their next meeting, where more wedding details would have to be ironed out. He wished her a pleasant afternoon and raised her hand, barely brushing his lips over the back in a gesture that sent chills up Hermione's spine.

The last thing she saw before disapparating was Malfoy regarding her with his masked expression. The touch hadn't affected him at all.

* * *

 _AN: There you go! Another chapter down, a little shorter this time, but I was having a hard time with my 'Draco'. He's a little too enigmatic, but he has his reasons!_


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